Went over to pick up the dogos, and I looked under the couch to see if a nylabone had skittered in there (really, I stopped looking for bottles a long time ago) - he suddenly blocks my view as I'm crouched on the floor, but voila! There is a bottle.
"Oh, that must be an old one, there for a long time!" QUACK
Me: (thinks: that wasn't there 3 weeks ago when I moved out) "That's *your* problem, not mine! "
So much pathos.